


memories turn into daydreams

by bucksreyes



Category: Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Amnesia, Amnesiac Bucky Barnes, Childhood Friends, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Misunderstandings, POV Alternating, Pining, Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-27
Packaged: 2020-08-18 22:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 12,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20199256
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bucksreyes/pseuds/bucksreyes
Summary: He doesn’t know how he got here, he doesn’t know why he’s here, and most importantly, he doesn’t even know his own name.Bucky wakes up in a hospital with no memory of who he is. Steve is there when he wakes up and is (understandably) worried about his best friend, who had just been in a car accident. Bucky looks at the facts and makes the reasonable assumption that he and Steve are a couple. They aren't. Cue the misunderstandings.





	1. only you know me the way you know me

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a work in progress, but I do have some more written and I will try to update consistently. 
> 
> You can find me on tumblr at [steviebarnes](https://steviebarnes.tumblr.com) and on twitter as [616stevierogers](https://twitter.com/616stevierogers)

The first thing he registers when he wakes up is the throbbing pain in his head. He opens his eyes with considerable effort and the pain sharpens, concentrated at one point at the front of his head. He blinks at the unfamiliar surroundings. He can see a pistachio-coloured wall, a light wood countertop with a sink and paper towels, and by his side are a bunch of machines, beeping and blinking steadily. A hospital. He's in a hospital. 

He feels a small sense of relief upon recognizing where he is, but it doesn’t last long. He knows he’s in a hospital and he knows what a hospital is and he could name most of the medical equipment around him, but that’s all he knows. He doesn’t know how he got here, he doesn’t know why he’s here (although it might have something to do with the pain in his head, and now that he’s a bit more awake he realizes his left arm is in a sling), and most importantly, he doesn’t even know his own name. 

He sucks in a panicked breath, glancing around the room with wild eyes. He sees movement to his right and he realizes someone had been dozing in the chair next to his bed, but he must have startled them awake. Hopefully he has answers for him, because he has a lot of questions. He tries to slow down his breathing, finding it hard to focus despite the fact that his mind is blank.

The man stands up from the chair and puts his hands on the bed rail. Close-up, he can see the man has short, golden blonde hair, a slightly crooked nose, and bright blue eyes, which are intently focussed on him. 

He drops his gaze to the man’s arms which are braced against the bed, as if he needs help staying upright, and he can’t help but notice the defined muscles of his forearms flexing as he adjusts his grip.

“Bucky?”

So much for the man having answers for him. What the hell is Bucky? Is it even English? He knows he is thinking in English, and he assumes he is in a hospital where other people spoke English, but he has no way to be sure. What if no one here speaks English? He just stares at the man, perplexed.

“What?” His voice is barely there, his throat too dry to form a proper sound.

The man notices and turns to the small table beside him. “Bucky, I’m so glad you’re okay. When I got the call I-” he cuts himself off and turns back, holding a glass of water with a straw, and holds it out to him. Instead of bracing his arms against the bedrail, the man leans over it so he can hold the straw to his mouth. 

The man keeps saying Bucky, as if he is referring to him. Is that his name? Seems like an odd sort of name. Maybe it’s a nickname. Something about it feels familiar to him, comforting, so he assumes that he must be Bucky, at least to this man.

He takes a drink of water while the man continues talking. “I’m just really glad.” The man gives him a small smile, but his eyes shine with unshed tears.

It’s clear the man cares about him, but Bucky still has no idea who he is. He feels bad that he doesn’t feel the same warmth toward the man that he can see in his eyes, but it’s not Bucky’s fault he can’t remember anything. 

At least they’ve established that the man speaks English. Now that his throat no longer feels like the Sahara, he gently nudges the straw away from his mouth and takes another attempt at speaking.

“Who are you?” He asks, as gently as possible. He may not remember the man but he doesn’t want to be rude about it.

The man’s smile fades, his eyes going wide in shock, then narrowing in confusion. “Bucky, I–What do you mean?”

Bucky swallows and tries to sit up, putting his weight on his right arm. The man reaches out to help him, then draws his hands back slowly, shoving them into the pockets of his jeans. 

“That’s not funny.” The man’s frown deepens and he gives him a disapproving glare. 

“I wasn’t trying to be.” Bucky finishes sitting up, a task which shouldn’t have exhausted him as much as it did, and leans back into his pillows. He notes that he has three pillows cushioning him, rather than just the one, likely requested by someone to make him more comfortable. Bucky assumes it was the man.

The man whose glare has turned from disapproving to disbelieving. 

“You’ve known me your whole life, Buck.” His voice is raw with emotion. “Do you really not remember me?”

Bucky takes a breath, then slowly shakes his head. He watches as the man’s face falls and he turns his face toward the door, looking determined.

“I’m going to call the doctor, I’ll be right back.” He rushes out of the room before Bucky can respond. 

Not that Bucky has anything to say. His head is still throbbing and now that he’s alone, he can feel the panic rising in his throat. Why can’t he remember anything? Not even this guy he has supposedly known his whole life. Not even his own name.

A few minutes later, or seconds, or hours, Bucky isn’t sure, the man rushes back into the room, followed closely by a man in a white coat. He must be the doctor.

“Mr. Barnes, I’m Dr. Banner. How are you feeling?” The man has kind eyes and a calming demeanour, but it doesn’t help Bucky’s increasing feeling of despair. What does help is the name. Bucky Barnes. A first name and a last name. It might be ridiculous, but in the time between the man leaving and returning with the doctor, Bucky spiralled into panic, feeling untethered from reality, and having a name for himself makes him feel a little more secure. If he has a name, then he’s a person and if he’s a person then he has a life. Even if he can’t remember it. He holds onto that.

“I…” Bucky grimaces, unsure where to start, so he goes for the issue which is easier to understand and deal with. “My head hurts, and my arm, a little bit.”

Dr. Banner nods his head, giving him a sympathetic smile, then glancing down at the clipboard in his hand. “I just need to ask you a few questions and then I’ll see what we can do about the pain. Can you tell me your full name?”

Bucky stares at him for a few seconds before speaking. “Bucky… Barnes?” 

Dr. Banner nods again and looks back at the man, who is hovering by the doorway, arms crossed in front of his chest. The man’s eyes are focussed on Bucky, his mouth turned down in a concerned frown.

“Do you know what day it is?”

Bucky shakes his head.

“Do you know where you are?”

“A hospital.” Bucky replies. 

He feels like he is taking a test he didn’t study for, but Dr. Banner just nods and writes something on his clipboard before looking back at him.

“Alright, Mr. Barnes, it appears you’re experiencing some memory loss. I don’t want you to panic, because it is likely temporary, a result of the head injury you experienced. I’d like to run some tests to get a better picture of the issue. For now, I’m here to answer any questions you have.”

Bucky’s head is full of questions, but he doubts the doctor has answers for all of them. “What happened to me?”

“You were in a car accident. A driver ran a red light and their car crashed into yours, on the driver’s side. You were pinned down, but the paramedics were able to get you out and you were brought here, to New York Presbyterian, in Brooklyn. You suffered a minor head injury and your arm is broken, but other than that, physically, you came out in good shape.”

Bucky absorbs the details, adding them to the list of things he knows about himself, which is woefully small. 

“Does any of this sound familiar?” 

Bucky shakes his head, dejected.

Dr. Banner puts a hand on his shoulder. “That’s alright. Don’t pressure yourself to remember. Try to get some rest and I’ll send a nurse in to see about the pain. I’m going to order a few tests and I’ll be back to check in on you soon.” He gives Bucky’s shoulder a squeeze before turning to leave. “Steve? Could I have a word?”

The man startles slightly at being addressed, but follows Dr. Banner out of the room.

Steve. So that’s his name. It’s nice to finally stop calling him the Hot Blonde Dude in his head, not that it isn’t accurate. Bucky may not remember much (or anything) about his life, but he still has two functioning eyes, and he can appreciate an attractive physique when he sees one. He quickly learned he has an eye for detail, cataloguing as much information about the hospital room and the people in it as he can, from the colour of the walls to the unbelievable shoulder-to-waist ratio of the blonde who could hardly take his eyes off of Bucky. 

Alone in the room for the second time, Bucky feels a little calmer. He decides to take stock of what he knows. These are the facts:

  1. His name is Bucky Barnes. Not his full name, but it’s close enough.
  2. He’s in a hospital in Brooklyn.
  3. He has a head injury and a broken arm.
  4. He knows someone named Steve. 

He feels that Steve needs his own category in Bucky’s mental list so he gives him one. What does he know about Steve? He is blonde, over six feet tall, built like he spends all of his free time at the gym, blue-eyed, and has a crooked nose. What can he glean from Steve’s behaviour so far? He has been kind, attentive, caring, and more than a little upset, which is understandable given the situation. He also mentioned that he received a call about Bucky. Bucky thinks it’s safe to assume, based on the fact that he is the only one here, Steve is his emergency contact. That, combined with the clear attraction he feels toward Steve, and the way his voice nearly broke when he insisted Bucky had known him his whole life, leads Bucky to one simple conclusion: he and Steve are together.

Bucky feels a flush of pride at that thought. Not just because Steve is attractive and kind and has the sweetest smile Bucky has ever seen (not that he can remember seeing anyone else smile but he feels certain that it’s true), but because Bucky knows a lot more now than he did a few minutes ago. Steve’s behaviour makes sense, now that he knows what they are to each other. He wishes he could remember. It’s a more than a little heartbreaking to think that Steve is little more than a stranger to him, but Bucky is something else to him—boyfriend, partner, _ something. _ Bucky can’t imagine what it must feel like, having someone you love look at you like a stranger, but the look on Steve’s face when Bucky asked him who he was gives him a good idea of how awful this must be for him. Despite that, Bucky feels a little jealous of Steve. At least he _ knows _ Bucky. Bucky doesn’t even know himself, let alone Steve.

Maybe instead of daydreaming about his relationship with Steve he should’ve been working on the list of things he knows about himself. His revelation about their relationship does give him some insight on himself, though. If Steve really is his _ something, _then he must be someone who is worthy of all the love and warmth he could see in Steve’s eyes. And, even though Steve doesn’t seem like a shallow guy, he must be at least somewhat decent looking to get a guy like Steve. His mental inventory of the room didn’t include a mirror, so he simply looks down at himself. His left arm is obscured by the white sling, but he holds his right arm in front of him, appraising it. His hand is callused, his nails neatly trimmed, and his arm is muscular, maybe not as much as Steve’s but it’s close. He runs a hand over his stomach, which is flat and muscled as well, then drags it to his face. He can feel some stubble, but it’s no more than a few days growth, if that. His fingers move to his head, which is bandaged, but he can tell his hair is long and silky (or it will be when it’s clean). He picks out a strand and brings it in front of his face so he can gauge its length. It reaches just past his chin. 

Bucky lets go of the strand and goes back to his thoughts. He now knows that he’s fit, has long brown hair, and he likely works with his hands. Feeling satisfied with what he learned so far, he relaxes against the pillows, waiting for the nurse to finally arrive so his head will stop aching. 

The exertion of sitting up and the stress of his situation tired him out more than he expected. His eyes flutter shut just as Steve’s striking silhouette reappears in the doorway. He wants to speak to him, he has so many questions, but his head feels heavy and his eyes refuse to open. He drifts off with the image of Steve’s bright blue eyes in his mind.

* * *

When Bucky wakes up for the second time, the room is dark and Steve is back in the chair next to Bucky’s bed. This time he’s fast asleep, and Bucky takes the opportunity to get a proper look at him. He is slouched down in the chair, his head lolling to one side, arms folded in his lap. His legs are tucked in under the seat, as if he is trying to take up as little space as possible, which is easier said than done. Steve easily dwarfs the chair, making it look like it should be part of a child’s dining set, not sitting in a hospital room. He can’t possibly be comfortable, squished into the chair the way he is. Bucky warms at the thought of someone spending their night in an uncomfortable hospital chair just to be by his side. 

He’s tempted to reach out and run his hand through Steve’s hair. It looks soft and inviting, but he doesn’t want to risk waking Steve up. And maybe he’s sensitive about his hair. Maybe touching Steve’s hair isn’t something that Bucky does. He hopes it is, though. 

He quickly shakes the thought away, blaming it on the pain, which has dulled some. Steve is practically a stranger to him and despite what Bucky has assumed about their relationship, it still feels odd to think of him that way. Bucky’s pretty sure you aren’t supposed to want to run your fingers through someone’s hair a few hours after meeting them. Even though, in reality, it’s been a lot more than a few hours. He just doesn’t remember.

He lets out a frustrated huff of breath and frowns at Steve. His head is spinning with thoughts, trying to make sense of the situation. It’s so disorienting, looking at this stranger sleeping a few feet away, with no memory of him, only the knowledge that they’re important to each other. And even that’s an assumption. A pretty big assumption. 

Without Steve’s worried gaze and anxious smile directed at him, Bucky is feeling a lot less sure of his discovery. Maybe he and Steve are just good friends. Maybe Steve is a government agent who was tasked with finding him and is lying to him so he won’t fight back. Or maybe Bucky is spiralling because he has nothing in his head and his brain is trying to fill up the space with ridiculous ideas. Although, Bucky thinks, as his eyes sweep over Steve’s broad shoulders and strong arms, he is definitely built like some kind of special agent who could take out 10 bad guys without breaking a sweat. But, he could just as easily be a bouncer or a security guard, or a regular guy who likes working out.

Besides, government agents don’t look at bad guys the way Steve was looking at Bucky. No spy training in the world could teach you how to fake the genuine concern and warmth that he saw in Steve’s eyes. At least Bucky hopes. 

Judging by the situation he is in, he doesn’t have the best luck, but maybe he is just lucky enough to have this. To have someone who cares about him. Who is willing to fall asleep in a too-small chair in a hospital just to be close to him. Who looks like he walked straight out of an action movie… or one of Bucky’s wet dreams. 

He’s only human, and he has functioning eyes—20/20 vision even, he thinks—so he can’t help but fixate a little on how good looking Steve is. It’s not as if he has anything else to go on; he doesn’t know much about Steve’s personality yet, so he lets himself be a little shallow. If Steve really was a stranger he just met, Bucky would definitely be interested in getting to know him. He wonders if that’s how they met, meeting eyes across a bar, Bucky sauntering over and offering to buy Steve a drink.

But Steve said they’ve known each other their whole lives. So that wouldn’t make sense. More likely they met eyes across a playground not a bar, and Bucky probably asked Steve if he wanted to play on the swings. Still, it’s a cute thought. Little Steve and Bucky, growing up together. How long until their friendship had evolved into something else? Then again, Steve said they’ve _ known _each other, not that they’ve been friends their whole lives. Maybe their playground meeting was less meet-cute and more meet-ugly. They could have fought over who got a turn on the swings and then hated each other for years until eventually they grew to understand each other and made up and then got together. He has no way of knowing which version is true, if any, and the only person with the answers is still fast asleep. 

Bucky is mentally debating whether or not it would be rude to wake Steve up, when he sees a shadow in the doorway. He looks up and it’s a woman in a nurse’s uniform.

“Mr. Barnes, glad you’re awake.” She walks into the room, sparing a glance to Steve before lowering her voice. “I’m here to negotiate your morphine allowance.” 

She gives him a small smile and grabs his chart from the end of the bed. “Oh I’m Alina, by the way. I’ll be your nurse for the rest of the night.”

“Nice to meet you, Alina.” Bucky replies. “I can’t wait to stop feeling like someone is banging on my skull with a sledgehammer.”

Alina smiles sympathetically. “I’ll see what I can do about that. Can’t promise you’ll be 100% pain-free but I’m sure we can trade out the sledgehammer for a rubber mallet or something.”

Bucky laughs but winces at the jolt of pain in his head. “Thank you, I appreciate it.”

Alina fiddles around with the equipment on his left, notes some things on his chart, and places it back in its spot at the foot of the bed. 

“Give me a call if you need anything else, Mr. Barnes.” She turns to leave, giving him another smile.

He hesitates for a second before replying, “it’s Bucky.”

She pauses, looking confused. “What is?”

He feels uncertain about his admission now but it’s too late. Is Bucky not actually his name? She would have seen it on his chart if it was. But if it’s a nickname, then it wouldn’t be on his chart, right? He decides to take a leap of faith.

He shrugs with his right shoulder only, since he doesn’t want to jostle his other arm. “My name. It’s Bucky. You don’t have to call me Mr. Barnes. Makes me feel old.” 

Which makes him realize he has no idea how old he is. Yet another question to add to the never-ending list. He hopes Steve is a patient person.

“Oh, okay. Good night, Bucky. Get some rest.” She leaves and closes the door on her way out.

Bucky is once again alone in the dark. Except, not really. He looks over at Steve, still squished into the chair, his chest moving up and down slowly as he breathes. The morphine is kicking in and Bucky feels a little more at ease, despite all the questions he still has. He relaxes back into his pillows, letting the soft sounds of Steve breathing lull him back to sleep.


	2. let me down slowly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve isn’t sure which was worse; when he got the call from the hospital telling him that Bucky had been in an accident, or when Bucky had woken up and looked at him as if he were a stranger. Before Bucky woke up, Steve would have said the former. Getting that phone call was the worst moment of his life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and comments so far! Here is chapter 2, finally. Hope you enjoy Steve's POV! Warning for mentions of (mostly unspecified) health issues and a vague description of an asthma attack.

Steve wakes up before Bucky does. He slowly extracts himself from the chair and stretches, groaning softly with relief as his body rejoices from not being cramped into a tiny death trap masquerading as a chair. 

He picks his phone up from the side table and tucks it into his pocket. He really should turn it on and check his messages, but he isn’t ready for that yet. First, coffee.

He steps closer to Bucky’s bed and sweeps his eyes over him.  _ He’s all in one piece _ , Steve reassures himself. He’s alive. That’s all that matters. Everything else is secondary. Including the fact that he has no idea who Steve is.

Steve isn’t sure which was worse; when he got the call from the hospital telling him that Bucky had been in an accident, or when Bucky had woken up and looked at him as if he were a stranger. Before Bucky woke up, Steve would have said the former. Getting that phone call was the worst moment of his life.

He was lounging on the couch, rewarding himself for completing his work well before the deadline, flipping through his Netflix queue, when his phone rang. He almost ignored the call, not recognizing the number, but the anxious knot in his stomach compelled him to answer. He barely remembers the actual phone call, has no idea what he said or did afterward.. The next thing he knew, he was on his bike, halfway to the hospital, wearing a helmet only because of muscle memory.

He parked haphazardly and all but ran into the hospital. He vaguely remembers following the signs to the right ward. He was in a nondescript hallway, lined with vacant hospital beds and carts of medical supplies, when he had the wherewithal to ask which room Bucky was in. He headed for the nurses station and they directed him down the hall.

The doctor came out to speak to him before he could get to Bucky, assuring him that Bucky was alright, just a little banged up. He introduced himself as Dr. Banner and told Steve there was no need for panic. Steve gave him a bewildered look, because he wasn’t panicking. No one was panicking. He just needed to see his friend, make sure the doctor was telling the truth, see with his own eyes that Bucky was alright.

It was only after Dr. Banner practically hauled him into a seat that he realized he was struggling to breath. His chest felt tight and as soon as he took a second to focus on something other than the need to see Bucky he noticed how fast his heart was beating. He quickly recognized his reaction for what it was, an asthma attack, though he hadn’t had one in years. Luckily, at Bucky’s insistence, he still kept his inhaler on him for emergencies. 

The thought of Bucky sparked him back into action. His friend was likely in pain, alone and scared, and he was sitting in the hallway letting his traitorous lungs get in the way of being by Bucky’s side. He cursed his stupid body, not for the first time, which still found ways to limit him, long after he thought he had finally gotten past all of its shortcomings. He couldn’t let it get between him and his best friend, not this time.

Someone pressed an inhaler into his hand and he brought it up to his lips on reflex. A few moments passed and he felt his chest loosen, but he still felt the faint buzz of anxiety thrumming through him. The only thing that would ease that feeling was seeing Bucky. 

He stood up slowly, realizing a small crowd had gathered: Dr. Banner, two nurses, an orderly, and a concerned visitor who was likely passing by. His face flushed with embarrassment. He was a grown man who had been dealing with asthma for most of his life and yet he was still reduced to a ball of anxiety when faced with it. It made him feel small, pathetic, unworthy of the second chance he had been given. 

He ducked his head and asked Dr. Banner if he could see Bucky. The doctor led him down the hallway to the room, explaining that Bucky was still unconscious and the more he rested the faster he would heal. 

“He’s got a broken arm and a minor head injury. We’ve set the arm, but we’ll know more about the head injury when he wakes. All things considered, he…” Dr. Banner trailed off. “Well, I don’t want to say he was lucky, but he came out of this better than you’d expect.”

The doctor’s words were meant to be reassuring, but hearing the specifics of Bucky’s state did nothing to ease his worries. A broken arm. A  _ head injury? _ Those didn’t sound very minor. Steve had broken his arm before, as a kid, and it had been plenty painful. The thought of Bucky experiencing that same pain made his chest ache with compassion.

Dr. Banner gave him a sympathetic smile. “You’re his friend?”

Steve nodded, practically bouncing on his feet as he waited for the doctor to finish talking so he could see Bucky. “His best friend.”

Dr. Banner, sensing his urgency, opened the door to the room and gestured for Steve to go in.

He didn’t need any prompting. As soon as the door opened Steve burst into the room, walking the few steps to Bucky’s bedside with sheer momentum. The surge of relief he felt at seeing Bucky was overshadowed by the sight of the bandage on his head and the big white cast on his left arm. Steve spotted some small cuts and bruises on him as well, and turned to give the doctor an accusing look for not mentioning it, but he was no longer in the doorway.

Steve huffed and reached for Bucky’s right hand, cradling it in both of his own. Bucky’s mouth was turned down in a slight frown, but he didn’t react to Steve’s touch so he allowed himself a moment of unguarded affection for his friend. Bucky’s hand was softer than he expected, and warm to the touch.

When they were kids Bucky was a godsend during the winter, when Steve had to wrap up in layers even to make the short trek from his house to Bucky’s. He always scowled at Steve whenever he forgot his gloves, repeating his mom’s words about taking care of himself. But he would shuck off his own gloves, shove them in his pockets and take Steve’s hands in his own, rubbing some warmth into his frozen fingers, cursing him all the while.

The first few times, Steve forgot the gloves due to his own carelessness, but soon he began leaving them at home out of spite and a careless disregard for his health, fueled by his frustration with his poor excuse for an immune system. Eventually, he came to terms with the fact that his life was always going to be harder than the other kids’ and denying that fact, or rebelling against, it wouldn’t do him any good. But he continued to forego his gloves every winter, often enough that he could no longer cite forgetfulness as the culprit. The truth was, he began to cherish those brief moments when Bucky would hold his hands and warm them even as he lectured Steve for being reckless and stupid. It was always worth the disappointed looks from his mother and the inevitable days he would have to spend in bed, too sick to move. 

Steve learned early on that when you were measuring your life in days and hours, rather than months and years, you had to hold onto those moments. He would get sick regardless of all the precautions he took, and a life bundled away wasn’t a life worth living, not in Steve’s eyes. He wanted to live as much as he could, even if he wouldn’t live long. He could have those moments and they would make it all worth it. Those moments with Bucky’s hands wrapped around his own, they made him feel better about ailing body and short lease on life.

Things changed when they got older. Steve got healthier, his treatments yielding results, his body finally catching up with people his age, and though he wasn’t 100% healthy, he was leaps and bounds from where he started off. He was eternally grateful for a chance to live his life and be able to look forward to a future for the first time, but it also meant he ran out of excuses to hold Bucky’s hands. 

_ Well Rogers,  _ he thought bitterly,  _ you got your wish _ . He swallowed hard, willing away the selfish thought. He let go of Bucky’s hand, placing it gently on the mattress. He stepped back and settled into the chair next to the bed, pulling out his phone to make a few calls while Bucky slept.

Now, the knowledge that Bucky is alive and healing and capable of speech and thought, brings his panic into perspective. His concerns about Bucky’s welfare take a backseat to the pain of losing Bucky in another way, in a way that he never imagined he could.

He can’t get the image of Bucky’s face out of his head. He had looked at Steve and there had been nothing in his eyes. Steve hadn’t felt real grief until that moment. The moment when he had realized that Bucky didn’t even consider him a friend anymore, much less anything more. Bucky doesn’t know him. The one person who knew him best, the one who Steve could share everything––or almost everything––with, who never judged him, who cared about him despite all his faults, has no idea who he is.

It felt like the ground has fallen away from beneath his feet and he had nearly stumbled at the realization that Bucky didn’t know him. And if he didn’t know him, then he couldn’t love him, not even as a friend. Steve was surprised he managed to stay upright, despite the way his stomach dropped as if he were falling. He all but ran out of the room to get Dr. Banner, hoping for an explanation, a solution, something to ease the cold stab of dread he felt when he saw Bucky’s empty eyes.

Dr. Banner said that temporary amnesia was common in these cases and their tests would tell them more about what was going on. It wasn’t a definitive answer, but the word temporary was reassuring. Bucky forgetting him was his worst nightmare, but Bucky never remembering him,, that was unthinkable. 

“Until we know more,” Dr. Banner said when he pulled him aside, “you need to be patient with Bucky. This is likely temporary, but it doesn’t change the fact that, at the moment, Bucky doesn’t remember anything about his past. You should take care not to overwhelm him with details, but do answer any questions he has as best as you can.”

Steve barely processed his words, feeling like he was floating somewhere outside of his body. It wasn’t fair that this was happening to Bucky, not after everything he had already been through. At least he didn’t remember any of it, the bad memories swept away along with the good. Steve was immediately wracked with guilt, for focussing on himself and his own feelings rather than thinking about what Bucky was going through.

He felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Dr. Banner, giving him another sympathetic look.

“I know this can’t be easy for you, but your friend needs you right now. Even though he doesn’t remember you, your support will make this experience a lot easier for him.”

Steve gave a brief nod and turned back toward Bucky’s room. He stood in the doorway, trying to ground himself, before facing Bucky again. Fortunately, the moment he walked in he saw Bucky’s eyes fall closed and his body relax into sleep. He waited until Bucky’s breathing evened out to walk further into the room and settle into the chair again. 

Steve prided himself in being brave, always standing up and facing his fears, but he had never felt less brave than he had at that moment.. He was glad to have a few more hours to prepare himself to speak to Bucky again, though any amount of time would never be enough. 

Now, standing over Bucky’s sleeping form, he can feel the time slipping through his fingers. Any minute now, Bucky could wake up and look at him with the same eyes he has looked at him with his whole life, and not even see him. The thought makes Steve’s chest feel tight again and he takes a deep breath to try to ease it. He runs a hand over his face and sighs, before tucking both hands into his pockets. The urge to reach out and touch Bucky is stronger than ever, but he’s never felt more out of his reach. He allows himself one last glance at Bucky before turning toward the door in search of some coffee.

A few minutes and a cup of black sludge later, he pulls his phone out of his back pocket and turns it on. It buzzes rapidly in succession before quieting down and he squints at the screen. He has three missed calls from Sam, four from Winnie, and several text messages. He ignores the calls for now and opens his messages. 

> **Ma (5:13 AM):** Call me when you get a chance, honey! 

He has thirty-four other messages, but he stops at the one from his mom. The others will have to wait. He could really use some good old Sarah Rogers wisdom at the moment.

He hits the call button and presses the phone to his ear, listening to it ring. She answers after two rings and Steve lets out a relieved breath.

“Oh, honey.” Her voice is full of concern and love and warmth and it makes Steve want to cry.

“Hi ma.” He manages to choke out the words in between two deep breaths.

“Winnie called me. How is he?”

Steve chews on the inside of his mouth, considering the question. “He’s… he’s okay. Arm’s broken, head’s a little banged up, but the doctor says he’ll be okay.”

“Oh good! I’m so glad. You’d think I’d be used to you boys giving me a fright by now, but… I was climbing the walls a little bit. I had half a mind to hop on the next plane back to New York. I told myself I’d wait until morning, your morning, before I did anything drastic, though.” Sarah paused, waiting for a response from Steve, but when it didn’t come, she continued, her voice once again full of concern. “Steven, are you sure everything’s alright? I can be there in a few hours, just say the word.”

“Ma…” He doesn’t want to ruin her vacation, not when it’s the first one she’s been on in years, not when she’s so happy, but the words stick in his throat.

“Honey, are you alright? Please talk to me.”

“He doesn’t remember me.”

“Who doesn–Bucky? Bucky doesn’t remember you? I don’t understand.”

“Temporary amnesia, the doc says.” Steve’s face feels strained with the effort of trying not to cry. “He… he doesn’t remember anything. Not even me.”

“Oh my… poor thing. He must be so terrified. Are you with him?”

“I–I was. I’m in the hallway now. He was sleeping and I didn’t wanna disturb him.”

“Of course not, my sweet boy. Don’t lose heart. The doctor says it’s temporary? You know our Bucky, he’s a fighter, just like you. You’re both so strong. You’ll get through this.”

“I don’t know what to do, Ma.”

“Just think about how Bucky is feeling. Imagine if that was you. What would you need?” She pauses, letting the question sink in. “Think about what would help you the most, and you do that for him. I know you’re hurting, but it won’t help either of you to wallow in this, Steven. You remember what I taught you, right?”

He takes another deep breath. “Always stand up.”

“That’s right. Now you be strong, for the both of you, and I’ll see you in a few hours.”

Steve nods along before processing her words fully. “Wait, ma! You don’t need to come.”

“Of course, I do. My boys need me.”

Her words ignite a warm feeling in his chest, but he needs her to know that she doesn’t have to ruin her vacation for him. “I love you, ma, but it’s only a few more days. You know Bucky wouldn’t want you to come home early just for him. He’d be pissed.”

“Language, Steven,” Sarah admonished, almost unconsciously, “but I suppose you’re right. How I ended up with not one but two stubborn boys I have no idea…” She trailed off, her voice fond. 

“So you’ll stay?”

“Yes, but I expect you to call me every day. And Winnie and George. You might be all grown up now, but it’s a parent’s job to worry about their kids. So please call. And if you need anything you have to promise you will call someone, and not try to do it all on your own. I know I raised you to be strong and face any obstacle that comes your way, but I didn’t tell you had to do it alone. Call your friends. Call Sam. I’ll see you both in a few days.”

“I love you, ma.”

“Do you promise to ask for help if you need it?” His mom knows him too well, knows that he hardly listens to orders but never breaks a promise.

“Yes, ma.”

“I love you, Steven. Give Bucky my love as well. Even if he doesn’t remember me, a mother’s love is always a comfort.”

“I will.”

She hangs up and Steve keeps the phone pressed against his ear, as if the lingering warmth of his mom’s voice will seep into him through the phone. He really wishes she was here, but she finally has a chance to enjoy her life and he doesn’t want to take that away from her. He took too many years away from her already.

He brings the phone back in front of him so he can read his other messages. He opens the ones from Sam, skipping the messages from his other friends, because he knows Sam will pass on the information to them.

> **Sam (11:34 PM): ** hey man, how’s Bucky?
> 
> **Sam (6:34 AM): ** i’m guessing you’re asleep but any updates?
> 
> **Sam (6:35 AM): ** since you haven’t texted i’m assuming the worst, just so you know
> 
> **Sam (6:36 AM): ** if he’s ok, this conversation never happened
> 
> **Sam (6:36 AM): ** if he isn’t… then i’m worried
> 
> **Sam (7:14 AM): ** steve???

Steve quickly types out a reply .

> **Steve (7:34 AM): ** sorry sam, was sleeping. bucky’s ok. he’s asleep.

He gets a response back almost immediately.

> **Sam (7:34 AM): ** seriously??? you leave me hanging all night, and all i get is “bucky’s ok”
> 
> **Sam (7:34 AM): ** you better be sending me his full medical report right now or i swear to god i will show up there myself
> 
> **Steve (7:35 AM): ** sorry…
> 
> **Steve (7:35 AM): ** i didn’t mean to worry you, i was just a little too much in my head
> 
> **Steve (7:35 AM): ** he’s got a broken arm, minor head injury. they’re gonna run some tests, but he was up and talking
> 
> **Sam (7:36 AM): ** damn
> 
> **Sam (7:36 AM): ** at least he’s alright
> 
> **Sam (7:36 AM): ** keep me updated on the head injury situation
> 
> **Steve (7:36 AM): ** …
> 
> **Steve (7:37 AM): ** there’s something else too
> 
> **Sam (7:37 AM): ** steve…
> 
> **Steve (7:37 AM): ** he has amnesia
> 
> **Steve (7:37 AM): ** doc says probly temporary
> 
> **Steve (7:38 AM): ** but not for sure
> 
> **Sam (7:38 AM): ** shit
> 
> **Sam (7:39 AM): ** SHIT
> 
> **Sam (7:39 AM): ** how much does he remember?
> 
> **Steve (7:41 AM): ** ...nothing
> 
> **Sam (7:41 AM): ** nothing??? Shit
> 
> **Sam (7:42 AM): ** you want me to come down there? 
> 
> **Steve (7:42 AM): ** might not be a good idea
> 
> **Steve (7:42 AM): ** doc says not to overwhelm him
> 
> **Sam (7:43 AM): ** ok but you better keep me updated
> 
> **Sam (7:44 AM): ** ghost me again and i WILL march down there and kick your ass steve
> 
> **Sam (7:44 AM): ** and by me i mean nat
> 
> **Sam (7:45 AM): ** she will kick your ass on my behalf, bc i’m too nice
> 
> **Sam (7:46 AM): ** you remember that ok
> 
> **Steve (7:47 AM): ** will do. 
> 
> **Sam (7:47 AM): ** take care man
> 
> **Sam (7:47 AM): ** call me if you need anything!
> 
> **Steve (7:48 AM): ** [thumbs up emoji]

He swipes out of the conversation from Sam and opens the one with Becca, Bucky’s sister.

> **Beccaroo (12:31 AM): ** ma has been bugging me for an update!!!!
> 
> **Beccaroo (12:32 AM): ** obvs ur sleeping but update when you wake up pls
> 
> **Beccaroo (7:04 AM): ** ma’s ready to show up there but i stopped her
> 
> **Beccaroo(7:04 AM): ** is he up? ma wants to talk to him

Steve curses himself for falling asleep instead of answering his messages. He isn’t ready to face Winnie so he simply replies to Becca’s texts.

> **Steve (7:52 AM): ** so sorry becs
> 
> **Steve (7:52 AM): ** tell ma winnie bucky is ok, he’s sleeping
> 
> **Steve (7:52 AM): ** i’ll have him call when he’s ready…
> 
> **Steve (7:53 AM): ** he has a broken arm, head injury and… he has some amnesia
> 
> **Steve (7:53 AM): ** DON’T FREAK OUT
> 
> **Steve (7:53 AM): ** AND DON’T CALL
> 
> **Steve (7:54 AM): ** doc says its temporary but more updates later
> 
> **Steve (7:54 AM): ** they’ll run some tests when he’s up
> 
> **Steve (7:55 AM): ** sorry for not calling i was just
> 
> **Steve (7:55 AM): ** sorry

He wants to sink to the ground and curl up into a ball, but he already feels guilty enough for acting selfish. He’s not the only person in Bucky’s life who cares about him, not the only person he doesn’t remember.

> **Beccaroo (7:57 AM): ** AMNESIA??????
> 
> **Beccaroo (7:57 AM): ** ik u said not to call but w t f
> 
> **Beccaroo (7:57 AM): ** STEVE WTF?????? Pls say sike
> 
> **Beccaroo (7:58 AM): ** u really gonna say dont freak out??? 
> 
> **Beccaroo (7:58 AM): ** sorry u are probly freaked out too huh
> 
> **Beccaroo (7:58 AM): ** ma is going to lose it omg
> 
> **Beccaroo (7:59 AM): ** but hes ok? you talked to him?
> 
> **Steve (8:00 AM): ** yes he’s ok just confused
> 
> **Beccaroo (8:00 AM): ** this is so messed up
> 
> **Beccaroo (8:00 AM): ** gonna tell ma & dad
> 
> **Beccaroo (8:01 AM): ** call ma ASAP 
> 
> **Steve (8:01 AM): ** i will… soon
> 
> **Steve (8:02 AM): ** he’s going to be ok becs
> 
> **Steve (8:02 AM): ** more updates soon i promise! sorry for earlier
> 
> **Beccaroo (8:02 AM): ** its ok steve i get it
> 
> **Beccaroo (8:03 AM): ** give him a hug from me PLS
> 
> **Beccaroo (8:03 AM): ** i cant believe this ok bye

Steve tucks the phone back into his pocket. He knows Becca and Sam will get the word out about Bucky, so he’s in no rush to reply to any more messages. He feels as if he’s reached his limit for social interaction for the day and it’s barely 8 am. He wants nothing more than to crawl into bed and hide from the world, but he can’t. Not when Bucky needs him.

He pushes off the wall and walks back to Bucky’s room. He hates the thought of Bucky waking up alone and confused. He wants to be there for him, even though it won’t make much of a difference to Bucky whether he wakes up to Steve by his side or a nurse or a random visitor. It won’t matter to Bucky, but it matters to Steve. Bucky is his person and that will never change. Even if Bucky never remembers him, Steve will be there.


	3. all these precious moments

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Hi,” Steve says, his expression guarded.  
“Hi.”   
“You must have a lot of questions.” Steve plants his elbows on his knees and rests his chin in his hands, blue eyes focused on Bucky.

Bucky is getting tired of waking up in the same uncomfortable hospital bed, with the same broken arm and the same headache and the same lack of memories. The only thing he isn’t tired of is waking up to the same blonde hunk by his bedside. 

The hunk in question is awake this time, perched on the edge of the chair, cradling a steaming cup of coffee. He looks up when Bucky looks at him, as if he can feel his eyes on him. He places the cup on the table beside him and shifts his chair closer to Bucky’s bed.

“Hi,” Steve says, his expression guarded.

“Hi.” 

“You must have a lot of questions.” Steve plants his elbows on his knees and rests his chin in his hands, blue eyes focused on Bucky.

Bucky huffs out a laugh. “You bet I do. For starters… how old am I?”

It must not be the question Steve expects Bucky to start with, because his eyebrows lift slightly and he takes a second to answer.

“28. Your birthday was in March. March 10. Today’s June 12,” he adds quickly.

Bucky nods, absorbing the information. “And you’re… the same age?”

Steve hums in confirmation, but adds. “I’m still 27, though.”

“Okay, so you’re Steve. And I’m Bucky?”

“Steve Rogers and Bucky Barnes, yes.”

“And you’ve known me a long time?”

Steve nods, looking at a spot somewhere over Bucky’s shoulder. “23 years this September.”

23 years. That’s a long time. And it means they must have met when they were 5. They likely went to the same elementary school. Steve hadn’t said they had become friends 23 years ago though, just that they’d known each other for that long.

“And we were friends? From the beginning?”

“Yeah,” he replies with a fond smile on his face, “you were my first friend.”

How sweet. Although it was a little upsetting that Steve didn’t have any friends for the first five years of his life. Maybe he was exaggerating.

“Okay. I’m Bucky Barnes and you’re Steve Rogers. I’m 28 and you’re 27. We met when we were 5, which was 23 years ago. We’re in Brooklyn.” Bucky lists out the facts, trying to find himself among them, but they could be talking about a stranger for all he knows. “Did we grow up in Brooklyn?”

“Yes. Born and raised. Brooklyn’s home.” 

He has so many questions and the more answers he gets the more questions he ends up with. He isn’t sure what to ask next. He could ask about his family, how he and Steve met, Steve’s family, his job, Steve’s job, where he lives, what his favourite food is, if he’s ever been in a hospital bed before, if he prefers showers or baths. But before he can choose just one of them, there’s a knock at the door.

It’s Dr. Banner, sympathetic smile and all.

“Good morning, Mr. Barnes, Steve.” He gives Steve a nod as he strolls in, pausing on Bucky’s left. “How are you feeling this morning?”

“Call me Bucky.” Bucky replies, almost automatically. “And.. the pain is better. I still don’t… remember anything, though.”

“Not to worry, Bucky.” Dr. Banner replies. “I’ve got you scheduled for some tests today, which will tell us more about what’s causing this memory loss. I’ve seen cases like this before and 99% of the time the memory loss is temporary and the patient’s memories return on their own.”

“And the 1%?” Steve asks before Bucky can.

“Let’s not worry about that until we know more.” Dr. Banner turns his smile on Steve, who leans back in his chair, looking dissatisfied.

“Okay.” Bucky says, because what else can he say. “Thanks, Dr. Banner.”

He doesn’t get much of a chance to talk to Steve after that, aside from a few reassurances on Steve’s part and a few complaints on Bucky’s part. He is dragged around the hospital for most of the day, subjected to various tests, before being escorted back to his room in the evening, where Steve has once again managed to squeeze himself into the too-small chair.

The exhaustion hits him as soon as he is back in the room. It might be a little pathetic that he is exhausted from the simple task of getting into and out of his bed, but after an entire day spent in bed, his body is protesting even the smallest amount of exertion. The lack of nutrients isn’t helping either. Even if the hospital food were appetizing (it’s not), he doesn’t have much of an appetite, likely a side effect of the morphine. He feels nauseated at the sight of the dinner, which is placed in front of him a few minutes later, and he pushes it aside.

Steve gives him a disapproving look and nudges the tray back toward Bucky. “At least have some pudding, Bucky.”

Bucky shakes his head. “I can’t.”

He expects Steve to push it, but he doesn’t. He just settles back into his chair and nods. “You feel sick?”

Bucky hums, not feeling up to speaking. 

“Best thing to do is get some sleep. You’ll feel better in the morning. And I’m going to make sure you eat your breakfast.” Steve fixes him with a pointed stare.

“Yes, sir.” Bucky replies, already feeling the warm embrace of sleep. 

“Good night, Bucky.” Steve’s smile doesn’t reach his eyes, but Bucky feels comforted by it all the same.

He drifts off with a mumbled good night.

When he wakes up, it’s morning, judging by the sunlight streaming in through the windows. He looks to his right, and Steve’s not there. He props himself up on his elbows and looks around, as if he could miss Steve’s I-bench-couches-every-morning physique in the small hospital room. There isn’t anything he could possibly hide behind. 

Disappointed, Bucky settles back into his pillows. He’s a little upset that Steve isn’t there, his absence leaving a cold feeling in Bucky’s gut. He sighs internally, annoyed at himself for being so ridiculous. Steve has been here all day and night for two days, maybe he went home to shower. It’s selfish of him to want Steve to be by his side every minute of the day. Not to mention, he barely knows Steve. He shouldn’t miss him this much when he’s still practically a stranger. 

Sure, he knows his name is Steve Rogers, he’s 27-going-on-28 and he lives in Brooklyn, but that’s about it. He  _ would _ know more if he could get a second alone with the guy when he isn’t surrounded by doctors and nurses, or half asleep and rambling about pudding. 

Just as he has the thought, a nurse shows up at his door with a tray of food, followed closely by Steve. As relieved as Bucky is to see Steve, he frowns at the thought of breakfast. He knows he should eat, but he’s not looking forward to eating a bowl of brown sludge and dry toast.

He asked for some frosted flakes the other morning, but he was informed that he couldn’t have dairy until he was off of the pain medication. After which he briefly considered forgoing the pain medication entirely, but the memory of the headache he had when he first woke up ended that train of thought. At this point, he’s desperate enough to eat dry frosted flakes. Anything is better than the bland oatmeal they serve every morning.

Steve, who is probably a morning person, has a big smile on his face. “Eat up, Bucky.”

Bucky glares at him, but picks up the spoon and shovels some of the sludge into his mouth. “This is the worst.”

“It’s not that bad.” Steve nudged the bowl closer. “And you need the energy.” 

“You like it so much, why don’t you eat it?” 

Steve makes a face. “I think I’ve eaten a lifetime’s worth of that shit already.”

His response makes Bucky pause. “You spend a lot of time in hospitals?”

Steve’s expression closes off. “Yeah. Which is why I know you will thank me in a few days when you get out of here and can walk to the car on your own.”

Bucky notes how Steve brushes off his question, but he guesses it must be a sensitive topic so he lets it slide.

“I guess.” Bucky knows he is right so he finishes off most of the oatmeal and even half of his juice.

He’s still nibbling on the toast, wondering if he can get away with shoving it under the covers when Steve isn’t looking, when Dr. Banner walks in. Steve stands up when he sees him and Bucky takes advantage of his distraction and quickly hides the toast.

Dr. Banner catches his eye and gives him a knowing smile. Bucky flushes slightly at being caught out, but he doesn’t care as long as Dr. Banner doesn’t call him on it. Thankfully, he doesn’t.

“Your test results have come back.” Dr. Banner says instead. “There’s good news and there’s bad news. Any preference on what you’d like to hear first?”

“Bad news.” Bucky and Steve both speak up at the same time. 

Steve rubs the back of his neck and looks at the ground. “Sorry. It’s your decision.”

“Bad news, first.” Bucky repeats, wanting to get the worst of it out of the way.

Dr. Banner looks amused for a second before his face becomes serious. “Alright, we’ll get straight to it. The bad news is that your test results were inconclusive. We didn’t find any evidence of bleeding, cysts, or any other physical trauma to your brain. In most cases, that would be good news, but since we were looking for more insight into your memory loss, it’s bad because we’re no closer to understanding why you’re experiencing these symptoms.”

The doctor pauses, letting his words sink in, before continuing. “The good news is that you don’t have any brain damage, only a superficial head injury. I’m sorry I can’t give you a definitive diagnosis or treatment for your amnesia, but I will say that I’ve seen this before. Sometimes, the cause of memory loss is not physical, but psychological. It’s possible that the stress of your accident is the reason you can’t remember anything prior to it. It’s not a common occurrence, but it has been seen before in cases of severe trauma. I know that may not be reassuring to hear, and again I’m sorry I don’t have better answers for you, but if the issue is psychological, there’s hope that your memories will return in time.”

Bucky is disappointed to hear that he still doesn’t have answers–feels like the story of his life now–but it’s not as bad as he feared it would be. At least he’ll recover from his physical injuries. And the memory loss, he can deal with it, as long as there is even a sliver of hope that he will get his memories back. If the doctor had said that there was no chance of it, he would have been devastated. It may be exhausting trying to re-acquaint himself with his own life, but it would be much worse to hear that he would never be himself again. At least there’s a chance. Bucky will hold onto that. It’s all he can do.

It’s Steve who speaks first. “Is there anything we can do to help Bucky remember?”

Bucky looks at the doctor, who is tapping his pen on Bucky’s chart, thinking. When he speaks, he directs his words at Bucky.

“My advice would be to make sure you avoid putting undue stress on yourself. Even though nothing showed up in our scans, additional stress could lead to further complications. Because we don’t know the cause of your memory loss, it’s best to tread lightly. If at any point you feel overwhelmed, take a step back and don’t push yourself to remember. You’ll have a better chance of recovering your memories if you take things slow.”

The doctor then turns to Steve. “As for helping Bucky, the best thing you can do is not overwhelm him with details. I would suggest you familiarize Bucky with his usual routine as much as you can, and not pressurize him to remember or act like the person you know. Just keep in mind that Bucky doesn’t know himself the way you do and you’re going to need to be patient with him.”

Steve nods, keeping his eyes on Bucky, his expression filled with concern. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“I’m afraid there isn’t much else we can do for you, but that leads me to some more good news. As we’ve established your head injury is superficial, you no longer need to be under 24 hour supervision, which means,” Dr. Banner smiles, “you can go home. I can have your discharge paperwork ready as soon as this afternoon.”

“That’s great.” Bucky is still processing the news about his condition, but he is ecstatic to learn that he finally gets to leave this hospital, and the stomach-churning food, behind.

“In case I don’t see you before you leave, I wanted to let you know that you can call me anytime. If you have any questions or concerns, I’ll leave my number with Steve.” Dr. Banner finishes.

“Thank you,” Bucky says.

“Steve, if you come with me for a second I can give you my card.” 

With one more reassuring glance at Bucky, Dr. Banner leaves, followed by Steve.

While Steve’s away, Bucky lets Dr. Banner’s words sink in. He knows the doctor said to keep his stress level under control, but he can’t help it if he’s feeling overwhelmed already. The doctor had said to limit his exposure to new information, but Bucky is more daunted by the fact that there is so much he doesn’t know than he is by what information he has learned so far. Basic details about himself, such as his age and his name, they are the opposite of overwhelming, but the things he doesn’t know, they loom over him like a thick fog. He hoped to finally get some answers after days of frustration, but Dr. Banner’s advice puts a damper on his plans. Considering the possibility of complications, Bucky decides it is best if he holds back on asking all the questions he wants to ask. Even if that means he will have to live with all of his questions for longer than he expected.

Bucky sighs in frustration and rubs his head with his uninjured hand, careful to avoid the bandages. 

“Head hurting?” 

Bucky jumps at the voice, not realizing Steve is back and lurking in the doorway.

“Sorry.” Steve walks in and lingers by the foot of the bed. “Do you want me to call the nurse?”

“No, it’s fine. It’s not the injury, it’s just…” He trails off.

Steve nods in understanding. “Feeling overwhelmed?”

“Yeah.” 

There’s a brief silence when neither of them speak. Steve’s eyes are somewhere near Bucky’s right elbow and Bucky is staring at Steve’s chest. More specifically, he’s staring at the shirt Steve is wearing, which is a pale blue. He didn’t notice before, but he remembers noting the colour of Steve’s shirt as a light grey, not to mention it was a short-sleeved t-shirt whereas this shirt has long sleeves which Steve has rolled up to his elbows.

“You changed.” Bucky blurts out.

Steve looks startled. “What?”

“Your shirt.” He says. “You changed your shirt.”

Steve blushes. “Yeah, I… I had trouble sleeping last night so I went home and took a shower. I did some cleaning up, too.”

Now that Bucky is really looking, he can see that Steve’s hair is shinier and his pants are different.

When Bucky doesn’t reply right away, Steve continues, tucking his hands into his pockets and rocking back onto his heels. “I left in a hurry the other day, obviously, when I got the call, so the place was a mess. I did some vacuuming, washed the dishes, laundry–oh, and I grabbed you some clean clothes, for whenever you got discharged.” Steve tilts his head toward a dark green backpack resting by his chair. “Good timing, I guess, since you’re getting discharged today. It’s gonna be great having you home.”

He’s rambling and it’s adorable and Bucky is so caught up in how endearing it is he almost misses the implication of Steve’s words. 

“Wait. We live together?”

He’s been having his doubts about his theory and he wasn’t sure how to bring it up with Steve, especially now that Dr. Banner has advised that he not overwhelm himself with details. Learning that they live together, though, that changes things. It must mean that they really are together and Bucky was doubting it for no reason.

“Yeah, we do. We have an apartment not too far from here. It’s temporary.” Steve says, then clarifies, “I mean the apartment is temporary. Not us living together. That’s not temporary. Unless you want it to be… I mean, since you don’t remember…”

“No!” Bucky says, a little louder than he planned to. “That sounds nice. I don’t really want to be on my own right now. And Dr. Banner said to keep to my usual routine. But…”

Steve nods once, urging Bucky to continue.

Bucky takes in a deep breath. “I might not be comfortable doing everything that we normally do, you know, since I don’t really know you. Yet. But I want to get to know you. Again. Sorry, this is hard.”

“Of course, Bucky. I would never make you do anything you aren’t comfortable with. Why don’t we keep it simple? As we go through your routine, I’ll tell you what we usually do and then you can decide if that’s something you want or if you aren’t ready for it yet. For example, I could tell you that it’s your turn to take the trash out on Thursdays, and then you could say you don’t want to, and then I’d take the trash out.”

Bucky is touched by Steve’s understanding, but it’s hard to match his earnestness when he barely knows him. He opts for humour, instead. “You would make an injured person take the trash out? Steve… I thought you were a good guy.” 

Steve laughs. “Hey, that’s why I said  _ I _ would take the trash out. I didn’t say I would make you.”

“Yeah, but you would tell me it’s my turn? As if I could be expected to take out the trash with only one functioning arm? I don’t think any day should be my turn until I can use both my arms again, it’s only fair.”

Steve laughs again and the sound makes Bucky feel warm inside. “Hmm, I have a feeling I’m going to be doing all the chores for the next few weeks.” 

“I think it would help with my recovery to just sit on the couch and not do anything all day.” Bucky reasons.

Steve rolls his eyes, but his smile is fond.

Bucky drops the teasing tone. “Jokes aside. I like your plan. Thanks for being so considerate. I know this must be hard for you, too, having someone you lo–care about telling you that they’d prefer to take things slow.” 

Bucky may have made assumptions about what they are to each other, but he doesn’t want to assume anything about the specifics of their relationship. Just because they live together doesn’t mean they love each other, or that they told each other that they love each other. 

“It’s not a hardship, Bucky. You’ve taken care of me my whole life, it’s about time I returned the favour. I’d do anything for you, you know that.” He makes a face. “I mean, you  _ knew _ that. And you will know it again. When you see me taking the trash out every night.”

His tone turns teasing near the end, but his words are sincere, Bucky can tell. 

“I’m a lucky guy.” Bucky says.

“Because you have me to take out the trash?” 

“Because I have you.” 

That makes Steve pause, and if Bucky’s not mistaken, his eyes look a little watery. “I’m the lucky one, Buck.”

Bucky doesn’t want to ruin the moment they’re having, but he desperately wants to ask about the Bucky thing. Is it a nickname? Or does his birth certificate actually say Bucky Barnes on it? He needs answers.

Before he can figure out if it’s an inappropriate time to ask, Steve moves to the right side of the bed. His hands are no longer in his pockets, instead resting on the bed rail. He looks unsure of himself. It makes Bucky feel nervous

“Uh, your sister asked me the other day to give you a hug from her. But, it didn’t seem like the right time…” Steve squeezes the bed rail and then loosens his grip. “I can just tell her she’ll have to do it when she sees you in person, if you’re not ready yet.”

“Oh.” Bucky isn’t sure what he expected Steve to say, but a hug seems like a trivial thing. Based on the way Steve was acting, Bucky assumed he was going to drop some life-altering revelation on him, not a request for a hug. A hug isn’t a big deal. People hug strangers all the time, right? “I think… a hug would be okay.” Come to think of it, a hug would actually be nice.

“Are you sure? I don’t want you to feel pressured.” Steve backs up a little, true to his word.

“Yes, Steve. It’s okay. I don’t wanna disappoint my sister. Who I had no idea existed until 30 seconds ago.” Bucky replies, which makes Steve give him a sheepish smile. “It’s just a hug. We’ve probably hugged a hundred times, I’m guessing.”

Steve moves closer to the bed again, but he doesn’t crowd Bucky. “Yes. We’ve always been… affectionate with each other, so the last few days have been a bit… odd. Not that I blame you. I wouldn’t want to be touched by someone I barely know, either.” He’s rambling, again, but Bucky isn’t complaining. “And you have 3 sisters. And a brother. The one who wanted me to give you a hug was Becca.”

“Wow. A big family. I can’t wait to hear all about them.” Bucky’s glad to know he has so many people in his life who care about him, even as he feels a little uneasy at the thought of getting to know all of them again. He takes in a breath, brushing the thought aside. He doesn’t have to worry about all that yet. He’s going to take this one moment at a time. And at this moment, all he’s concerned with is the fact that he has a sister named Becca who is worried about him. “Make sure you let Becca know I got her hug.”

Bucky smiles at Steve and lifts his right arm to beckon Steve closer. Steve moves forward and wraps his arms around Bucky, his head tucked into Bucky’s right shoulder. Steve’s embrace is warm and comforting and it feels good to be held by someone who cares about him. After days of only being touched out of necessity, Bucky didn’t realize how much he yearned to be touched like a person and not a patient. A person who matters to someone. A person who is more than just aches and pains and itchy skin and a bunch of numbers on a display. He is tired of being a name on a checklist, a body in a hospital bed. It feels good to be treated like Bucky Barnes by someone who actually knows who Bucky Barnes is. 

Bucky relaxes in Steve’s arms, letting himself be held. Too soon, Steve lifts his head and pulls away. Bucky feels a little cold in the absence of his warm comfort.

Steve straightens up and tucks his hands back into his pockets. “Was that alright?”

“It was great, Steve. You’re really warm.”

Steve blushes. He does that a lot, Bucky notes. “I run hot these days. You complain about it all the time. Not that it stops you from using me as a human furnace in the winter. Which is fair, I guess, since I would do the same to you when we were kids. But at least I did it out of necessity, whereas you were just lazy. Last December, the snow soaked through your gloves while we were in your Aunt Mary’s backyard and you thought it was too much of a hardship to walk all the way inside and look for another pair. Instead, you thought it would be a great idea to put your hands up my sweater, because, and I quote, ‘you’re hot enough for the both of us, Steve.’ And it was all fine and good, until your aunt walked into her backyard and gave us a lecture on appropriate behaviour at dinner parties. I still haven’t lived that down, by the way. She gives me the stink-eye every time I see her at the Farmer’s Market. Nevermind that I did nothing wrong. I even offered you my gloves while I went to find more in the house. But of course she always assumes it’s  _ me _ getting  _ you  _ into trouble, because–well it usually is, but it wasn’t this time. For once.”

Bucky wonders if Steve knows he rambles or if Bucky has ever pointed it out to him. Considering how much he is currently enjoying listening to Steve talk, he guesses he never has. Although, maybe the difference between Bucky then and Bucky now, is that now he is deeply invested in the content of Steve’s ramblings. Steve is providing him with a wealth of new information, whether he’s aware of it or not.

If Bucky was looking for confirmation that he and Steve are a couple (which he is), that anecdote is the seal on the envelope. Putting your hands under your friend’s sweater because you don’t have gloves sounds like the worst excuse to get close to someone that Bucky has ever heard. Granted, it’s the only excuse Bucky has ever heard, as far as he knows, but even so. He knows enough about social etiquette to recognize that people don’t just do that to their friends. Now, if that friend was actually not a friend, but something else, then it would make a lot more sense for them to be in that kind of scenario. No wonder Aunt Mary was scandalized. Steve wasn’t exaggerating when he said they were affectionate with each other.

Steve’s words also bring up another question Bucky’s had for a while. After his revelation about he and Steve, he began wondering about how his family feels about them. Now he has an opportunity to ask about it. “So, I’m guessing Aunt Mary’s not the only homophobic relative I have?”

Steve shakes his head, to Bucky’s relief. “Actually, she’s the only one. And even then, she’s more casually homophobic than anything. Hasn’t told either of us to go to hell, so there’s that. Your whole family has been really supportive of both of us, you’ll be glad to know.” Something must occur to Steve because he smacks his head. “Oh, you’re gay, by the way. I forgot to mention.”

Bucky laughs at the look on Steve’s face. “Yeah… I kind of figured.” He sweeps his eyes pointedly down Steve’s torso and then up again.

Steve blushes, again. “Sorry, I just, wanted to make sure you knew. I’m bisexual.” He adds, almost as an afterthought.

Of course, Bucky figured out he is gay pretty quickly after waking up (mostly thanks to Steve and his… entire existence), but having it confirmed is a good thing. And he hadn’t known Steve was bi, so that’s new information, too. He feared that Steve might end up being straight and he was just projecting feelings onto him because he was here and built like a brick-house and cared whether or not Bucky ate his breakfast. But Steve is bisexual and sweet and they live together and Bucky hasn’t felt more certain about anything else in his life. He thinks.

“Thanks for telling me, Steve. Again. God, it must be weird coming out to your boyfriend, huh?” He decides to throw the word out there, testing it out. 

Steve makes an odd sound in his throat, his face blank. “Boyfriend?”

Bucky assumes he is surprised Bucky figured it out, or maybe he thinks Bucky remembers. Or boyfriend isn’t the right word for what they are to each other. 

“Sorry, is that not what we call each other? Do you prefer–” Bucky is cut off by the sound of Steve’s phone vibrating on the table next to them.

Steve grabs it and looks down at the screen. “I have to take this. Sorry!” He rushes out of the room, pressing the phone to his ear.

Bucky hopes everything is okay. 


End file.
